


Soulmarks

by krissysally



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz (Two River Cast) Actor RPF, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: F/M, Jeremy Thinks He's Straight, M/M, Michael Is So Gay For Jeremy, Oblivious Jeremy Heere, Pining Jeremy Heere, Pining Michael Mell, Pining Rich Goranski, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 07:12:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18868312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krissysally/pseuds/krissysally
Summary: Jeremy had kept his soulmark hidden. He had to, didn’t he? He didn’t have much choice, since the first day of sophomore year. That day, like most other days, he’d shown it off proudly – and that day, unlike most other days, Jeremy had seen a soulmark just like his own. On the same arm that had shoved him up against a locker. While a bully he’d never seen before warned him to stay the fuck away from him.So he hid it.





	Soulmarks

**Author's Note:**

> Now I just want to make this clear: this is a work in progress. I don't know if I'll take this down at some point, I'll definitely go back and change some of it, and chapters will absolutely be posted irregularly. That said, I highly value your feedback, so don't be afraid to let me know what you think in the comments - creative criticism is always welcome!

Jeremy had kept his soulmark hidden. He had to, didn’t he? He didn’t have much choice, since the first day of sophomore year. That day, like most other days, he’d shown it off proudly – and that day, *un*like most other days, Jeremy had seen a soulmark just like his own. On the same arm that had shoved him up against a locker. While a bully he’d never seen before warned him to stay the fuck away from him.

So he hid it.

It was okay at first. Since it was still hot at the start of the school year, Jeremy couldn’t wear a sweater to cover it, so he bandaged his arm every morning, and told anyone who asked (which, let’s be honest, was only his best friend Michael, and his own dad) that he’d pulled a muscle over summer break. That only worked for a month or so, but it was long enough for the weather to cool down a little, and for Jeremy’s navy cardigan to return. His dad was doubtful about the sudden injury, as was Michael, but Jeremy just said he’d fallen in an odd way. He was clumsy enough that they bought it. Kind of.

It was a shame, really. Freshman year, he’d shown off his mark, and he only wore his cardigan if Michael insisted that Jeremy would freeze without. Jeremy’s soulmark was a thin and elegant apricot blossom branch, spanning most of the length of his left forearm. In the dark, the colours looked like any other tattoo, but in the light, it all shimmered – the golden brown of the branch, the burgundy of the buds, the pure white of the petals. Jeremy loved how the simple colours paired with the neat design seemed humble and unassuming, until you saw it glimmer. It suited him, according to Michael. Said it looked good with his build.

The thing is, it also looked good on the bully. And they had very different figures. While Jeremy felt uncomfortably girly, too thin, too bony, and a little too tall, the other boy (whose name he learned was Rich, from overhearing a conversation about Insanely Popular Jake Dillinger’s latest hookup) was the exact opposite. Rich was short and stocky, ridiculously muscular, and would have been overwhelmingly hot if Jeremy were into guys, which he was most definitely not, by the way.

Rich had other tattoos all over his arms – big ones, small ones, intricate ones, simple ones, and the apricot blossom fit in easily. Jeremy only had one other, and it didn’t go with his soulmark at all – it was a Pacman tattoo on the inside of his right upper arm, one that mirrored Michael’s. The artist was pretty skeptical when they told her it was a friendship thing.

“You’re sure you don’t want a shimmer?” she had asked them. “It’s probably better off anyway – trying to recreate the way marks look is really difficult, and the shit they use pretty much poisons you from the inside out. Fuck, you won’t tell my boss I told you that, will you?”

After Jeremy and Michael had reassured the girl that they wouldn’t get her fired, she continued, focusing back in on her work. “It’s alright, guys, seriously. I’m queer too, you two don’t have to pretend you’re not dating.”

This was a very popular view on their friendship. Almost everyone who ever actually noticed Jeremy and Michael assumed they were a couple – bullies, friends, teachers. Sure, they’d made out a couple of times in Michael’s basement while they were high off their asses, but Jeremy had sworn up and down the wall that it was an experimentation thing, and it was absolutely no homo.

Jeremy had stopped saying ‘no homo’. Not because he was gay, no, god no. Absolutely not. Not him, nope. It was because he’d said it so much at one point that Rich had scribbled on his backpack ‘NOH’ – which made no sense to him, until he put it together with Michael’s backpack, similarly vandalised with ‘OMO’.

This seemed to be one of Rich’s favourite things. Apparently, he loved giving people matching backpacks, to the point where Jeremy and Michael had a collection going. Among many others, they’d had matching ‘TWI’ and ‘NKS’ backpacks before, which had sparked a conversation where a stoned Michael had to explain to an equally stoned and extremely confused Jeremy what twinks were, which led to talking about all the terms for different types of gay boys, which led to Jeremy trying to figure out what type of gay boy he’d be if he were gay, which he was absolutely not by the way – and yes, one thing had led to another and they’d ended up making out in the basement, but it was just to experiment, that’s all. They weren’t gay.

They’d also had matching ‘PLAYER 1’ and ‘PLAYER 2’ backpacks, which had given the students of Middle Borough High some rather enjoyable entertainment at lunch when they got into a very loud, very heated argument about who was Player 1 and who was Player 2 – while Rich had generously gifted the role of Player 1 to Michael, Jeremy insisted that it switched depending on whose house they were at. Michael’s argument was that when Jeremy beat him at Mario Kart he could be Player 1. Considering that in the eleven years they’d known each other, he’d never once beaten Michael at Mario Kart, he gave up trying to be Player 1 out of shame, no matter whose house. Michael considered this a win, even if he had to buy yet another backpack.

Our story begins properly in the spring of sophomore year. As the weather began to warm up, Jeremy’s classmates were shedding their layers – and with every layer of clothing shed, Jeremy accumulated another layer of anxiety. He couldn’t hide his soulmark in his cardigan forever, and he couldn’t really hide it under a bandage and pass it off as another injury. Rich had tormented Jeremy and Michael all school year, with extremely creative remarks on their (non-existent) homosexuality, their height (which was only a big deal next to Rich, who was a full head shorter than Jeremy), and their nerdiness (although Jeremy thought he was more of a geek personally). Even when he wasn’t actively harassing them, Rich seemed to be keeping an eye on them, possibly plotting his next move, or perhaps simply trying to (and succeeding in) making them uncomfortable.

A sentence such as “Fuck off tall-ass, go suck your boyfriend,” was a typical greeting from Rich, as demonstrated today.

“I hope he knows that shit’s getting old,” Michael had muttered as he evacuated the scene, dragging Jeremy with him to his locker. “He’s just jealous.”

Jeremy’s mind had to take a moment to process. “Jealous?” There’s no way Rich would be jealous. Jealous of what?

“Wait, you have to have noticed by now, right? He thinks we’re a thing, and he wants you. Have you seen the way he looks at you? I don’t know what that fucking prick wants with you, but he can’t have you.”

Jeremy gave Michael a look. Rich was not into Jeremy. There was no fucking way.

“I mean,” Michael began quickly, rummaging through his locker, “He can’t have you because you’re too good for him and he’s a guy and even if you liked guys he’s not your type, I don’t know why anyone would date that asshole - I’m not into him, are you?”

Jeremy gave Michael another look.

“I didn’t mean to say that. Fuck. I know you’re not into him.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“I’m straight,” Jeremy felt he had to restate, though he knew his best friend knew this.

Michael’s shoulders slumped, and he closed his locker louder than he meant to.

“Yeah. I know.”

There was something in his eyes Jeremy couldn’t read. He didn’t know how to bring it up.

He let it go.

Michael, still not looking quite right, slipped on his oversized headphones. “I’m gonna head to Sev-Elev, I’ll see you later.”

They parted ways, and as Jeremy headed to his own locker, he passed Chloe and Brooke gossiping about whatever tea Jenna had this week. He'd put away his books and was about to head to the cafeteria when he heard a familiar name come up.

"-So Christine Canigula has to snog this guy Dustin Kropp in Romeo and Juliet, right?" Chloe was telling Brooke. "So after rehearsal last night, Christine told Madeline backstage who told Jenna this morning that Dustin's a *terrible* kisser. He, like, opened his mouth too wide and *sucked on both of her lips at the same time*."

Ah, Christine. The reason Jeremy knew he wasn’t gay – he’d had a crush on her forever now. He hid behind his locker door and waited for more talk of Christine, trying to look busy as he searched for nothing in particular.  
"Oh, they *cannot* do that on stage," Brooke replied. "Can he, like, learn to be a better kisser? Or is he gonna be a bad kisser for the rest of his life?"

Considering he wasn’t terribly invested in Dustin Kropp's possibly doomed love life, Jeremy forewent listening to the rest of the conversation and headed to the cafeteria, anxious thoughts rushing through his head. He’d only kissed one person before. How did people get to be good kissers? Did they have to go through bad kisser stages? Were some people just naturally good kissers and some people were naturally bad kissers? What if he was a bad kisser? What if he was a bad kisser when he eventually kissed Christine?

Jeremy plopped down at the lunch table and groaned, letting his face fall into his hands. He couldn't even talk to Christine yet, let alone kiss her. Hell, she probably didn't even know he existed!

As much fun as Jeremy was having, he was mercifully pulled out of his wallowing by a familiar tap on his shoulder.  
"Michael!"

His best friend slid onto the seat next to him, noticeably happier than he’d been when he left, most likely because of the music blasting through his headphones. He set down two slushies and a pack of shitty gas station sushi onto the lunch table, and Jeremy, knowing better than to disturb Michael before his song was over, sipped on one of the slushies while he waited.

“Dude, you look like ass,” were the first words out of Michael’s mouth once his headphones were off.

“Dude, I *feel* like ass,” was the reply.

“What’s wrong?”

“Christine.”

Michael nodded in understanding, and took a sip of his own slushie.

“How many guys do you think she’s kissed?”

Michael shrugged. “A few, probably. Maybe three or four. Why do you ask?”

“You can tell a good kisser from a bad kisser by then, right?”

Another shrug.

“Well, how much experience do you have?”

“A bit.”

“Apart from me?”

“Yeah, a bit.”

Jeremy hesitated. “So…”

“So?”

“Well.” Jeremy chewed on his lip. “Was I… I mean, how – am – how, uh…”

Michael sipped idly on his slushie.

“Am I. You know. Am I okay?”

Michael gave a small chuckle. “I don’t remember, dude. I was so high.”

Jeremy looked down and toyed with his cold and frankly inedible lunch. “I don’t want to be a shitty kisser. And I especially don’t want to be a shitty kisser for Christine. I. Um. I need your opinion.”

“Sorry, Jer,” Michael sighed and sipped his slushie again. “I really don’t remember.”

Still staring into his food, Jeremy said, “I mean. We could… you know. I mean obviously not *you know* you know but we could, you know.”

Michael blinked.

“Could you, uh. Could you kiss me again?”

Michael choked on his slushie.

“Not – not here!” Red-faced, Jeremy thumped Michael’s back to try and help with his coughing fit, and looked around. He made eye contact with Rich, who promptly looked away. “Not here, Micha, not where anyone can see. They’d get the wrong idea.”

Michael nodded as his coughing died down, and choked out a, “You think?”

“So, if we, you know, in private, would it be okay? I just need to know if I’m okay or not. For Christine.”

“For Christine,” Michael repeated. He stared into his slushie, and said, “Yeah, alright. I’ll do it.”

Jeremy heaved a sigh of relief, and visibly relaxed. “Thanks, man. You’re really helping me out.”

“No worries.” Michael paused. “My moms won’t be home before seven tonight. You can come over after school?”

Jeremy nodded. “Sounds good. Hey, I know I stopped saying it a while ago, but I just have to, given the situation – no homo.”

Michael gave a strained smile. “No homo.”

*

It was, in fact, homo.

It was very, very homo. Michael knew this perfectly well. And he now found himself sitting on a bus next to his very attractive, very straight best friend who planned on kissing him when they got to his otherwise empty house.

Michael had made a mistake. A very bad mistake. A wonderful, awful mistake.


End file.
